The Rise and Fall
by Tilmitt
Summary: When Shera is hit with Geostigma, the world she and Cid were trying to rebuild crumbles around them once more.


Let me preface by saying that this was inspired by OTWTAS: Case of Barret and Cid gave me a lot of trouble in this fic. I kind of flip-flopped on the issue of him being so open toward Shera, but then I thought about it and thought maybe he's just trying to atone (as is a common theme in FF7 canon) and also trying to come to terms with losing pretty much everything he has left. If it works, great. If it doesn't, still great.

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><p><strong>The Rise and Fall<strong>

Cid's cursed at Shera plenty of times over the years she's known him. Over tea, his laundry, his food not being prepared right, and her general existence. It took a few days, but eventually she became accustomed to being snapped at for everything "wrong" she'd done in his presence. It took her a few weeks to become accustomed to him dropping the "goddammit" and just calling her _Shera_ while taking her shortcomings in stride. It took a few months to accept that Cid actually cared about her- not the tea, the laundry.

When Cid first noticed the dark patch on the back of her hand, he pulled her head tight against his chest and buried his face against the top of her head. "Shera," he whispered, his voice sounding thick and strained. His strong, scarred arms wrapped around her (no doubt leaving black, oily smudges on her white shirt). Shera stiffened, but wrapped her arms around his chest and sighed. She felt rather than heard his effort to keep his emotions in check. "Not you."

Shera pressed her face into his shoulder and let out a small whimper. "I'm sorry, Cid."

"God_dammit_, Shera," he answered fiercely. "Quick fuckin' apologizing for once." There wasn't any bite to it, and she knew that. He didn't say anything about her covering his shirt in tears and snot just like she didn't mention him quietly weeping into her hair.

.

.

Cid began planning a new ship after finding an abandoned oil field. Shera didn't ask him why he was bothering with either, and Cid didn't tell her. It's just how they were. Shera was surprised when Cid asked for her help. "Whaddya think, Shera? I can build a ship, but I don't know shit about how an oil rig works and what to do with it once we're done."

Shera laughed and shook her head. "Alright, Captain."

After a few weeks of hard work, the abandoned rig was up and running again. When they first tested it everyone around was covered in the black, sticky mess from the initial torrent of oil raining down on them. They were silent a moment, but soon they began to laugh and cheer as they struggled to turn it off again. Shera watched the look of sheer _joy_ on Cid's face and thought he maybe looked like a bright eyed kid at Gold Saucer.

The oil covered the Geostigma on her hand, and for a brief while she was just Shera again and Cid smiled at her happily as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "We did it!" He crowed. "Goddammit, Shera, this is great! Did you see that shit? God, I feel like a little kid."

Shera laughed. "You _look_ like a kid, Captain." Cid just laughed and tugged her ponytail affectionately before running over to his men. She felt a sharp pain run up her arm and closed her eyes against the feeling. She wasn't going to let her Captain's dreams be taken away by her (metaphorical) hand again.

.

.

Barret stopped by not long after that. The oil reserve was beginning to taper off- something that Shera had definitely _not_ predicted. Still, the output was good enough to keep going in due time. Cid and Barret approached her from the distance. She smiled, waved, and walked toward them. "Barret, it's good to see you." Shera caught his subtle glance at her hand and she hastily shoved it behind her clipboard and held it against her chest.

"Well, does it hurt?" Cid asked gruffly. Shera shook her head 'no' and cast her eyes downward. "Don't push yourself." She looked up at him at that, but found his eyes on the oil derrick in the distance. "Why the hell isn't this-"

Shera interrupted before he could begin to rant in earnest. "We had to shut it down this morning." Cid turned to her with an angry set to his jaw. Shera ignored him and turned to Barret, who looked at her confused. "We might have gotten more, but output had dropped all the way to ten percent of when we started drilling, so we had to shut down the pump." She watched as Cid's posture slackened and he sighed.

"The first day it came spurtin' out even without the damned pump. We turned jet black from all the oil rainin' down. Laughed our asses off," he mumbled sullenly.

Barret sighed next to him. "The planet ain't gonna give us _nothin'_ else, huh?"

"That's not true," Shera said firmly, desperate to bring the light back into Cid's eyes. "The planet has all kinds of things in store for us. Like coal, oil, mako, you might say. There might even be things we don't know about yet. We'll be okay, as long as we don't misuse them. As long as we don't get greedy. If we're resourceful. The planet must be concerned about us. After all, the Lifestream that courses through it was once the lives of people who lived right here where we stand."

Cid looked at her, lost and simply said her name in a desperate voice. He paused for a moment, shook his head, and tried again. "Shera, how's the fuel?"

"Fine. It partly depends on your engine efficiency, but you should be able to fly once around the planet. More than enough for a test flight, I'd say, but what do you think?" She cocked her head at him sympathetically.

Cid scoffed and threw his hands up in the air. "The engine's not ready. Nothing's working. The end's nowhere in sight. Listen, Shera-"

"What is it?" Cid stopped mid sentence and just stared at her. Shera raised her eyebrows at him, expectant.

"Cid just wants you to, to help out with the engine development. Kick his ass into shape, ya know? Just 'cause the fuel's all done—there's still heaps of work to do," Barret chimed in. He looked uncomfortable, and Shera almost felt bad for making him so. She nodded at him and smiled.

"I know." Shera turned Cid. "I can't throw in the towel yet." Cid frowned, picking up right away at the double meaning of her words. She smiled at him as Barret continued rambling to raise morale, and only looked away as all three of them turned their gaze to the derrick once more.

"Barret," Cid said finally. "You know of any oil fields?"

"Leave it to me!" Barret said, pumping his gun-arm in the air in excitement. Shera laughed, bid goodbye, and went to analyze the data she'd been collecting.

.

.

Slowly, Shera began getting worse. Most days she couldn't pull herself out of bed for the pain and a sense of apathy she couldn't explain. Cid made her tea, bandaged her up, cooked for her, and generally sat around keeping her company. Just a year and a half ago they couldn't stand the sight of each other.

On the third night of it, he crawled into bed with her and pulled her tight against his bare chest. Shera asked what he was doing and he simply shushed her. He tenderly kissed her forehead, her temples, her ears, her jaw, her neck, her nose, her lips- anything he could get to. Shera closed her eyes, touched the rough stubble of his jaw and didn't try to stop him. She knew damn well he needed it just as much as she did. Cid gently pulled her nightgown off and left her sprawled out in front of him. Shera pushed at his waistband carefully, wanting to feel his skin against hers.

"Shera," he whispered against the curve of her breast. He repeated it like a mantra, over and over. Shera felt him half-hard against her thigh and carefully reached her good hand down to stroke him. Cid just pushed her hand away and guided it to the back of his neck. "No," was his answer to her quizzical expression. She felt him soften once more and couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. "Not now. I just...goddammit, _Shera._" Cid put his forehead against her stomach and she watched his shoulders shake with each breath.

Shera screwed her eyes shut and thought _I__ know,__Captain._

That night, they lied in bed next to each other as Cid told the stories behind every single one of his scars at her request until she fell into a restless sleep.

.

.

Something told her she needed to go outside and stand in the rain. It almost sounded like Aerith whom she'd met once upon a time and heard stories about, but she thought maybe the fever was playing tricks on her. Still she felt her body dragging itself out of bed, putting its feet into slippers, and shuffling out the back door to where Tiny Bronco (now for sentimental reasons) sat.

Much to her surprise, she felt a pleasantly warm sensation in her hand and brought it up to her face. Her Geostigma...it was gone. Shera stared in disbelief, then dropped to her knees in the mud and laughed until she cried. "Thank you," she mumbled to the sky after she'd sobered. She turned to go inside and call Cid, but a small flower caught her peripheral vision.

So it was Aerith.

.

.

Cid came home from Midgar the next night. As soon as he walked in the door, she offered him a cup of tea and waved her hand at him. Cid laughed, grabbed the cup and placed it on the table, and kissed her hard. "Goddammit, Shera," he said brightly, cupping her face in his hands. "Will you marry me?"

Shera smiled and grabbed both of his hands with her own. "You won't take no for an answer, so I guess I'm going to have to."


End file.
